Cowboy At Arms. Carla CassidyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Nobody, not even his best friend, Forest, knew that Dusty was deaf in one ear.
He knew with confidence that he was a good cowboy. Cass Holiday had seen to that. But Cass was dead now, and Dusty was left with the sinking feeling that he really wasn’t good enough for any woman.
* * *
It was just after ten o’clock when Trisha got into her car and headed to the Bitterroot Motel, where she and her son had been living for a little over two and a half years.
As she drove the short distance, her thoughts were filled with the cowboy who had asked her to have drinks with him.
There was no question that she was physically attracted to Dusty Crawford. He had hair the color of sun-kissed wheat and eyes the hue of a cobalt bottle. Deep dimples flashed charmingly with his smiles that warmed her as no other man’s had in a very long time.
They’d chatted often enough at the café that she knew she also liked his sunny disposition and easygoing attitude. Despite their interactions at her workplace, she only knew him superficially, and an excitement she hadn’t felt in a very long time fluttered inside her at the thought of finally getting to know him better.
Is it safe?
Has enough time passed?
The troubling questions flew into her head unbidden and sent a new tension churning in the pit of her stomach. Surely after a little over three long years she was finally safe here and didn’t have to worry about her past reaching out to torture her or anyone else ever again. Surely it was finally safe for her to believe that a happy future was possible for her and her son.
Any disturbing thoughts she might have momentarily entertained disappeared as she pulled up in front of unit 4 at the motel. The units were small but also had full kitchenettes, and the weekly rent was low enough that between her wages and her tips she’d been able to sock away some savings.
Still, she knew it was past time to make a move. It wasn’t right to be raising a three-year-old little boy in the confines of a motel room. She was hoping that in the next couple of weeks or so she would find a small house to rent, a house where Cooper could play in the yard and have his very own room.
With thoughts of her son filling her heart, she left her car and hurried toward the motel room door. She unlocked and opened it to see Juanita in the chair next to the bed where Cooper slept soundly. Juanita closed the tabloid she’d been reading and got out of the chair.
She joined Trisha at the door. “As usual he was a good boy today,” she said softly. “We played outside on the swing set and then spent the hot hours of the afternoon playing games and watching movies inside. He ate a good dinner and then took a bath before he went to bed.”
“Thanks, Juanita. I was wondering if maybe tomorrow night you could stay a little later than usual. Maybe until around midnight?”
Juanita’s broad face wreathed in a smile and one of her thick dark eyebrows danced upward. “Does Cinderella have a ball to attend?”
Trisha bit back a laugh. “No, nothing quite as elegant as that...just drinks with a cowboy.”
“And who is this lucky cowboy?”
“Dusty Crawford from the Holiday ranch.”
Juanita quickly made the sign of the cross over her chest. “Something evil walked on that land.”
Trisha knew she was referring to the seven skeletons that had been found on the property...skeletons who had once been young men who had been murdered over a decade ago.
“Hopefully, Chief of Police Bowie will find out who was responsible for that evil,” Trisha replied.
Juanita nodded soberly and then smiled once again. “Staying late tomorrow night is no problem. It’s about time you did something for yourself.”
“Thanks, Juanita. I don’t know what I would do without you. Now, go home and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Trisha watched from the doorway as the older woman got into her car and then left the motel parking lot. Juanita Gomez had been a godsend since Trisha had begun working at the café.
The older Hispanic woman had lost her husband five years before to a heart attack, and with all of her children grown and living in different towns, Juanita had suffered from empty-nest and had wanted a babysitting job.
She was a kind, loving person and Trisha was grateful to have her taking care of her son. She closed and locked the motel room door and then gazed at the little boy in the king-size bed.
Cooper’s white-blond hair was in boyish disarray, reminding her that he was way overdue for a haircut. A small smile curved his lips, as if his dreams were good ones. She hoped he always had wonderful dreams. He was her heart and soul and she would do anything necessary to keep him happy and safe.
She went into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes and threw them into a hamper. It took her a few minutes to take a quick shower and then change into a clean nightshirt.
It was only when she was in bed in the dark room that her thoughts once again filled with Dusty Crawford. During her time working as a waitress, plenty of men had asked her out and she’d always declined the offers.
But as much as Cooper filled her life, over the past couple of months she’d found herself hungering for something more. Dusty had always created a little sizzle of electricity in her.
Was he the right man for the rest of her life? She couldn’t know for sure. What she did know was that he was the right man at the right time to ask her out tonight.
Is it safe?
The three words thundered in her brain. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and shoved away the fear that tried to take hold of her.
She’d lived in fear for the past three years. Surely she could finally let go of it now. Surely after all this time, after all the measures she’d taken, she wasn’t in any danger anymore.
With a tentative hope for a brighter future, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. She awakened to little hands on either side of her face. “Mommy, it’s time to wake up.”
Trisha opened her eyes and gazed into the beautiful blue eyes of her son. “Says who?”
“Says Cooper!” he exclaimed.
“Cooper who?”
“Cooper Cahill.”
It was a silly conversation they had almost every morning when he awakened her. She sat up and grinned at him. “And the tickle bug is about to attack Cooper Cahill.” She proceeded to tickle Cooper until his childish giggles filled the room where the early morning sun drifted in around the edges of the gold curtains at the window.
Minutes later the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and Cooper sat at the small kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal. Between bites he told her everything he wanted to do before she went to work at two that afternoon.
“We can swing and then we can play cowboys. You can be a bad guy and I’ll be a good guy.”
“Why do I always have to be the bad guy?” Trisha asked in amusement.
“’Cause I’m always a good guy,” Cooper replied as if that made perfect sense.
Thankfully, the only bad guys Cooper knew were little action-figure cowboys he deemed to be bank robbers and cattle rustlers. She could only hope that he would never know the kind of true evil she’d once experienced.
The morning passed far too quickly as she and Cooper played outside on the motel playground and then moved inside when the heat of the day began to build. As usual when they played cowboys, his good guys put her bad guys in jail.
At one thirty Trisha donned a clean pair of jeans and the red T-shirt that identified her as one of the waitresses at the Bitterroot Café. She then stared into the closet at her meager wardrobe.